The Last Envelope
by Angry Hermione
Summary: A strange tale about Harry and an addiction. Implied HHR? It will get 'very' explicit in later installments, thus the M rating. Good or bad, comments are always welcome! Last chapter posted!
1. The Dream, The obsession

Disclaimer: If I win multiple lotteries, I may buy the rights to 'Harry Potter,' Until then, I own nothing but the plot.

A/N: There's a second half to this story once it makes it out of beta. Leave a review and let's see if you can guess where this is going!

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1. The Dream, The Obsession

Harry awoke badly shaken and breathing heavily. His white tee shirt clung uncomfortably to his flesh, dampened by the cold sweat that was produced by the dream he had just broke free from. He sat up and brushed his sodden bangs out of his eyes, then rested his dripping forehead in the palms of his hands. He tried to swallow down the large, pulsating lump that had lodged in his throat. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, fighting to get his emotions under control, but he knew it was a losing battle. He didn't even know why he was fighting it anymore.

It was _that_ dream again. It was coming more and more frequently over the last ten months. The ten months since he'd last visited _her_. He knew why he didn't want to see her again so soon. He had spent so much time with her in the beginning. At first, he would see her every day, sometimes twice a day. As the months passed, he'd see her less frequently, realizing that sooner or later, he'd never see her again. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but in the beginning, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't bear to live the rest of his life never seeing her again, but he knew there would come a day where she just wouldn't be there anymore…

And that knowledge scared him more than anything.

He knew the next time he saw her would be the last. Over the past four months, he repeatedly found himself in front of the door with his hand on the knob, only to turn around and ride back home, or to the nearest pub. Most times, he chose the pub, trying to drown out the desire that he constantly felt. To numb the longing that was burning within him. He just couldn't work up the nerve to tell her 'good bye.'

But this was the morning. He knew he would do it this day. Maybe once he said 'good bye,' the dreams would finally stop. Maybe. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he knew that the dreams would probably never stop, but he had to hold onto hope, didn't he?

He rose from the bed and entered his bathroom for a nice long shower, the hot spray melted away the tension and sweat. He quickly dried himself before picking out a smart muggle outfit, a form-fitting forest green silk shirt and a pair of black slacks. He didn't even bother with his hair, he abandoned all hope long ago of trying to tame that unruly mop.

He walked to his closet and withdrew a sealed wooden box that he had hidden in back on an overhead shelf. With a tap from his wand and a hastily murmured incantation, the lock sprung with an audible click and the top cracked open. He closed his eyes and slowly lifted the lid. There it was. The envelope, plain white, sealed with no writing on it, but he knew what it contained. He picked up the envelope with a shaking hand and held it to his chest. He stood there for a long while, just clutching the envelope to his shirt while breathing heavily, trying to swallow down that persistent, nagging lump that apparently enjoyed the time it was spending in his throat. A single tear snaked its way down his face as he remembered a time, years ago, that the wooden box was filled with envelopes just like the one he was clinging to.

Had he really used that many over the years? He knew the answer to that question well enough. He remembered the first time. He was shocked when he heard about it from none other than Neville Longbottom, about the girl from Hogwarts who started her own business catering to lonely men. Neville certainly fit into that category, he never seemed to have much luck with the witches.

It was different for Harry. He wasn't lonely per se… after all, with his fame, money and looks, he could have practically any single witch he desired, and even quite a few not-so-single witches, if he were a less-than-honorable sort of fellow. He never knew why he went the first time, he just found himself there one day, more out of curiosity than anything. He soon found that it was a way to ease the pain… a way to cope… It was like a drug that made him forget about his life for a while. He couldn't really say exactly when it turned into an obsession… an addiction… It was very expensive, but money was one thing he really didn't have to worry about. Sure, he had money, more than he could ever spend in his lifetime, but what's the point of having money and possessions with nobody to share it with? Or more specifically, nobody he wanted to share it with.

He looked back down to the envelope in his hand. _'What was I thinking? Why did I start this madness?'_

With a heavy sigh, he picked up his black leather jacket, grabbed the key to his motorcycle, the same motorcycle that, at one time, had been owned by his godfather, Sirius Black. He stopped and stared at the key in his hand.

A small smile appeared on his face as he recalled the large black dog bounding along the platform at King's Cross Station. He remembered the night he freed Sirius with help from Hermione. He remembered the flight on the back of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. He remembered the warmth of her body as she clung tightly to him, her arms desperately wrapped around his waist, and her breath on the back of his neck that sent shivers throughout his body. He never admitted to anyone the effect she had on him that night. He was too young at the time to realize what he was feeling, and wasn't until years later that he discovered exactly what that feeling was.

His smile disappeared as the train of thought continued on to its inevitable conclusion: Death. Sirius falling through the veil. The violent deaths of his parents. The senseless death of Cedric. The tragic deaths of Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Mad eye, Tonks, Charlie and Ginny Weasley… and…

and…

Well, the list goes on… and on… The war was won by the Light, but at a terrible price. In Harry's opinion, the cost was much too high.

Harry sighed once again. He reached his arm out and Hedwig gracefully floated to him and obediently stuck out her leg. Harry carefully attached the envelope while walking to the front door, saying, "You know where to bring this, girl."

He had just reached for the doorknob when the crack of apparition sounded just outside in the yard. He opened the door and saw Ron and Luna Weasley walking up the dirt path towards his cottage, holding each other's hand and smiling broadly at him.

"Hi, you guys." Greeted Harry, trying to sound as cheerful as he could.

"Hello Harry, It is good to see you again." Said Luna, still with her dreamy, detached voice.

"We were just heading to that new pub that just opened in Diagon Alley and we thought you'd like to…" Ron frowned when he noticed the envelope secured to Hedwig's leg. "Mate, you're not going there again, are you? It's been over six years, you've got to let her go! You know you're only hurting yourself."

"I'm not hurting anyone, Ron, I'm just…"

"You're barking mad, mate, that's what you are…," snapped Ron, "What do you think she'd say about what you're doing? Do you honestly think she'd be happy about it?"

Earlier, Harry thought that lump in his throat could not get any larger or more annoying. He was proven wrong, as he was now finding it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Just sod off." Said Harry, as he brushed past the couple and launched Hedwig from his arm. Without a backwards glance, he clambered onto the large motorbike, kicked it into life and let a rooster-tail fly as he powered down the dirt path to the main road.

Ron looked on sadly, as his best friend tore down the road. Once Harry was out of sight and the rumble of the engine faded into the distance, he turned to Luna, and with a worried glance said, "He's driving himself mental. Why does he do it?"

Luna's unfocused eyes turned to Ron, as if staring right through him. "Harry will be all right." She said distantly, "I think he's on his way to find something he didn't know he was looking for."

Ron gave his wife a small, puzzled smile, not really understanding what she was trying to say, but then he rarely understood whenever she came out with those cryptic anecdotes. He did know that she always seemed to understand certain truths somehow, and had no qualms about vocalizing them. If she said Harry was going to be okay, then he was going to be okay. He shook his head and took Luna's hand, "Let's check out that pub, shall we?" A moment later, they were gone.


	2. The Visitation

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Harry Potter' yet, so don't ask me to lend you money until I do.

A/N: Ok, I know this was supposed to be a 2 part story, but this second part took on a life of it's own, so I split the end off for another chappie. More surprises in the next one, I promise.

2. The Visitation

Harry was having a rather difficult time seeing the road through the wetness in his eyes, caused either by the wind blowing around his glasses or his strained emotions. As much as he tried, he still couldn't manage to dislodge the insufferable mound of muscle binding his throat. Doesn't Ron understand? Doesn't anyone understand? The heavy pressure on his chest was making it difficult to breathe, even with the wind assisting in forcing air into his mouth as he rode. He always felt nervous each time he visited her, but being 'caught' by Ron this day seemed to double the anxiety.

Harry didn't take the direct route to her building, he wanted to give Hedwig plenty of time to get there before him, and the extra time riding the motorcycle gave him a chance to somewhat subdue his jangled nerves. Normally, just the experience of freedom would act as a sedative, the vibration of the engine, the pressure of the air against his body, and even the hint of danger involved in being so exposed while racing down a road was therapeutic to him, but this wasn't a normal day.

The realization that this was the last time he would make the trip to her flat had sent an uncomfortable lurch through his stomach. This would be the last time. He never thought about what would happen to him once he said good-bye. His face contorted with the internal pain he was feeling. He didn't want to say good-bye, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't stand another day without seeing her, but what about tomorrow? What about next week, next month, or next year? The year after that? How could he live with _never_ seeing her again? It wasn't fair, hadn't he sacrificed enough?

Harry abruptly pulled the bike over to the shoulder of the road and unsteadily climbed off the seat, letting the still-running bike lay on its side in the dirt. He was hyperventilating, his breathing quick and shallow and hitching every few seconds. He fell to his hands and knees as he desperately tried to control his breathing while tears streamed down his face.

'_It's just not fair.'_

It took Harry a few minutes to relax enough for his breathing to return to a somewhat normal state. He stood, brushed the dirt from his hands and knees, and with considerable effort, picked the bike up from the ground and seated himself on it. He took a few deep, cleansing breaths before he kicked the bike into gear and continued on towards London.

An hour later, Harry was riding through the streets of Soho. He pulled up in front of a small, non-descript building with no signs or windows, just a rusty metal door. He secured his bike and climbed the steps to the door. He stood there for a few minutes, silently debating with himself whether to enter or not. He knew that once he opened the door, there was no turning back. He closed his eyes and let out a tremulous sigh, then discreetly withdrew his wand from his jacket pocket and tapped it against the door. A barely audible 'click' was heard before he deftly opened the door, stepped inside and closed it again, where another 'click' indicated that the door had locked itself behind him.

He found himself standing in an ornately decorated drawing room. There were a few portraits adorning the fine paneled walls, a large oriental rug, woven in shades of brown, red and gold covered the hardwood floor. The room was sparsely, but tastefully furnished with a small maple coffee table holding a delicate vase with fresh flowers sitting between a red velvet sofa and a large fireplace. There was a wide staircase that led to the upper floors, and two closed doors on either side of the room. Sitting near the front door was a perch where Hedwig was settled, napping with her head tucked under her wing. He noticed that the envelope was no longer on her leg.

Harry nervously paced the length of the room, all the while keeping a surreptitious eye on the right hand door. After a few minutes, he stopped in his tracks as the lock on the door clicked and it cracked open slightly. The infamous lump made its presence painfully clear as he turned and stepped to the door. His hand was shaking terribly as he reached out to push the door fully open.

The room was exactly how he remembered it from the last time he was there. The door opened onto a large, comfortable looking sitting room. The walls had paneling similar to the drawing room. There was a large, over-sized sofa in front of the fireplace and a smaller love seat was set next to a tall, wall-length bookcase.

She was sitting sideways on the love seat with her legs demurely tucked beneath her, leafing through a large tome that was sitting in her lap. She wore a simple, light beige dress beneath her forest green robes. He could just make out her chocolate coloured eyes through the fluffy mane of her honey brown hair. Her brows were knitted together in concentration and her lips were slightly pursed as she read. Her eyes slowly drifted from the book in her lap towards the door. With a bright smile, she snapped the book shut, laid it next to her on the love seat, then jumped up and rushed across the room towards him.

"Harry!" beamed Hermione as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, "Oh God, how I've missed you! I was afraid you'd never come back!"

He matched her embrace and buried his face into her mass of hair. His face contorted, as if in pain as he fought to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. His eyes were closed tightly as he held her as if his life depended on it. Actually, he felt at that moment that his life really did depend on it. He didn't say a word, he just held her body close to his, reveling in the feeling of her pressed against him. He didn't dare open his eyes, afraid that he would open them to find himself back in his bed waking from _that_ dream again.

The constriction in Harry's chest caused his breathing to hitch. She pulled back from him and tried to look into his eyes, but they remained tightly closed. Her smile faltered only for a moment before she took his hand and led him to the sofa. She gently sat him down and kneeled in front of him, never taking her eyes from his face.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, with genuine concern in her voice. She could see the sadness in his eyes. She gave him a wan smile, then stood and walked to the small bar along the wall. She picked up a decanter of brandy and poured a generous helping into a large snifter. She glanced back at Harry, shook her head, and then added another finger of the brown liquor to the glass before walking back and placing it in his hand.

"Drink up, love… It'll help." She said as she knelt on the floor before him. Harry lifted the snifter to his lips and quickly drained it in a few gulps.

"Better now?" she asked as she took the empty snifter from his hand and reached across his lap to place it upon the end table next to the sofa. As she set the glass down, she smiled as she felt her breasts press onto his legs. She lingered a little longer than necessary, knowing full well what effect she was having on him. She pulled back to resume her kneeling position and gave him a warm, knowing smile.

Harry didn't answer, he just nodded and let out a long breath while staring into her eyes. He reached out to her face and ran his fingers over her cheek, down along her jaw and onto the soft skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh as he touched her. She leaned forward while cupping his face and gently placed her lips onto his. The kiss was soft and chaste, and not very long at all.

He couldn't stand it a moment longer. He pushed his hands into the hair behind her head and crushed his lips against hers. She let out a squeak of surprise, but recovered quickly and opened her mouth against his lips, inviting him to explore. She roughly pulled the bottom of his silk shirt from his pants and ran her long nails up from his waist to his chest, reveling in the feel of his muscled frame.

A gleam appeared in Harry's eyes, a gleam that hasn't made an appearance in a very long time.


	3. Afternoon Delight

Disclaimer: I've never claimed to own 'Harry Potter!' How could you think such a thing?

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3. Afternoon Delight

He broke the kiss after a few minutes, and then lifted her off the floor and onto the sofa so that she straddled him. He started trailing kisses from her face to the small hollow between her neck and collarbone, eliciting a long, hitching moan from her throat. His hands were busy peeling her robes off from her shoulders and sliding them from her back to lie in a pool on the floor. She lifted her bum from his thighs, allowing him to slide the hem of her dress up over her hips. He reached behind her and drew the zipper on the dress down to the small of her back, never pulling his lips from her neck and chest. With one fluid motion, he pulled the dress up over her head, exposing her matched lacy, black bra and knickers.

As soon as the dress cleared her head and she freed her arms from the cloth, she dove back into him, kissing him passionately while undoing the buttons on his silk shirt. As the last button was undone, she felt the clasp of her bra release and his fingers tracing along her skin as he slid the bra over her shoulders. She broke the kiss, pulled her arms out of the bra straps and tossed the article over the top of the sofa.

He wasted no time and buried his face in her silky mounds, fervently kissing and suckling her breasts, paying equal attention to each one, and leaving absolutely no exposed flesh unkissed. All of the nervousness and anxiety he felt minutes before was forgotten, his mind was solely focused on the woman who was squirming in his lap.

"Oh God, Harry!" she breathed as he kissed and massaged her breasts. Her breathing was quick and ragged. She could feel the dampness growing between her legs. She could actually feel the pulsing of his member through his pants, throbbing against her knickers.

"Damn it, Harry!" she scolded as she pulled herself away and stood from the sofa. He wore a surprised expression as she roughly pulled him up and spun him around as she sat down on the sofa in front of him. She frantically fumbled with his belt, undid the button and slid the zipper down. In one quick motion, she pulled his pants and boxers from around his waist, and before the clothing hit the floor, she engulfed his manhood in her mouth with a loud, satisfied moan. He had his hands wrapped tightly in her brown tresses, while she had one hand gripping his ass cheek, digging her nails into the hard flesh and her other hand was running her nails softly up and down his muscled abdomen. She knew how he liked it, wet, sloppy and loud. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic slurping of her mouth and the harmonious moans that were escaping both of their throats.

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the heavenly ministrations of her mouth and tongue on him. She was letting out a loud continuous moan as she worked, sending an incredible vibration through his core with each movement of her head. He could feel the muscles in his legs spasm with each pull of her lips as his climax drew ever nearer. She could tell by his short, ragged breaths and his involuntary thrusts that he was getting very close.

She pulled her mouth from him with a 'pop' and jumped off the sofa, "Oh, no you don't, Mr. Potter," she said while evilly grinning at him, "I want something out of this, too, you know!"

Harry grinned as she picked up her wand and flicked it at the sofa, which shuddered for a moment, then morphed into a rather shoddy looking single bed with a warped wooden frame and a badly misshapen headboard.

She watched Harry's smile falter. She gave him an apologetic look while handing him her wand and said, "Sorry, you know I didn't do well in Transfiguration, Potions was more my subject." She wore a sad little frown, desperately hoping she didn't ruin it for him.

He gave her an understanding smile and flicked her wand at the badly transfigured bed, instantly changing it into a large, king-sized four-poster, with white lace hangings, white silk sheets and a mound of oversized pillows stacked at the head.

"It's beautiful!" she cooed at him, and then looked into his eyes, trying to determine how much damage she had done with her little mistake.

He gave her a mischievous grin and said, "Now, where were we?"

She let out a relieved breath then thrust herself into his arms while kissing him passionately. She wrapped her hand around his swollen member and then said breathily, "I believe you were going to introduce me to 'Mr. Happy' here!"

She could tell he was right back into the swing of things when she felt his hand snake its way into her knickers and began stroking her moistened slit. She let out an involuntary gasp and a shudder as she ground herself into his hand. She felt her knees repeatedly quiver each time his finger brushed past her clitoris. The heat radiating from her loins even surprised her. Nobody she has ever been with could draw out these primal urges like this man. She was as addicted to him as much as she felt he was addicted to her.

Her eyes suddenly widened and she let out a hoarse gasp against his lips when he slid a finger into her. His hand was immediately soaked with her juices which flowed from her channel and dripped down the insides of her thighs.

She stepped back from him, slid her knickers down her legs and kicked them off to the side. Throwing herself back onto the bed, she splayed her legs wide open, giving him a spectacular view of her naked form and, while running one hand over her breasts and the other over her pussy, she throatily said, "God, Harry, I can't stand it! Don't make me wait any longer!"

He stared at her in awe for a few seconds, drinking in the vision writhing on the bed before him. He could see the familiar desire burning in her darkened brown eyes. He shed the remainder of his clothing and climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. He felt her hands wrap around the back of his neck and her ankles resting on the sides of his hips. He felt the incredible heat radiating out of her as the tip of his manhood rested against her velvet folds.

Her eyes widened and she softly exclaimed, "Oh, my!" as he entered her in one smooth motion. She let out a quick gasp and bit her lower lip, her moist walls clenched him tightly as he began slowly thrusting into her.

"Oh, I've missed this!" He heard her hiss through clenched teeth as he moved inside her. "I've missed you so much!" Her whispered breath on his ear sent shivers down his spine. His excitement grew with each moan that escaped her throat every time he pushed himself back into her.

He heard her breath quicken in time with his thrusting. Soon he was pounding into her with abandon. He watched with delight as the pink flush that started in the middle of her chest rapidly spread over her shoulders, up her neck and into her cheeks. Her hands were clawing at his chest, leaving long, pink welts in the wake of her nails. Her breathing came in short ragged puffs, occasionally stopping completely as an intense wave of pleasure washed over her, causing her eyes to clench shut and her brows to knit together. He felt her walls tighten and relax in harmony with each wave that crashed into her.

He felt his own climax rapidly approaching as he heard her repeatedly say, "Fuck me, Harry… Fuck me! _Oh, God, you're so good!"_

Suddenly, her eyes flew open for only a moment, then narrowed and fixed on his own eyes. Her breathing abruptly stopped and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, holding him deep inside her. He felt her fingernails digging deeply into his back as she clung to him. All he could hear from her was one long, squeaky gurgle from the back of her throat as she came against him. He could feel her body shudder as gushes of liquid soaked his pubic hair and balls. Her body convulsed every few seconds as wave after wave of her orgasm washed over her.

After a minute, she lay perfectly still with her eyes closed, apparently not breathing. She let out a long breath and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on his green pools. A wicked grin spread across her lips and she said, in a very seductive tone, "It's your turn now, Harry."

She grabbed his shoulders and rolled over on the bed, positioning herself on top of him without letting him slide out of her. She sat up straight and started rocking her hips, crushing her pussy into his groin and keeping her eyes locked onto his. She steadily increased the pace, sliding up so that the head was just held between her folds before crashing back down to engulf him completely.

He watched her bouncing up and down on him, rocking her hips and sweeping them from side to side. Her breasts were swaying in his hands, her nipples brushed against his palms in time with her movements. He watched as the deep flush rose again from her chest into her face. He knew she was on the verge of her second orgasm when she started bucking wildly on top of him, impaling herself on his shaft as her eyes rolled back into her head. He could feel the pressure of his own orgasm building up in his loins.

With each stroke, her raspy voice could only come out in syllables as she ground down onto him, "Ha- Ha- Har- ry… Oh- God- damn- it- Har- ry- oh- you- are- so- fuck- ing- good…"

The repeated, erotic 'squishing' sound of their bodies colliding drove her past the breaking point. Again, that long, squeaking, gurgling groan escaped her throat as her second orgasm hit. Watching her head thrown back in abandon was all it took for him. His whole body tensed and convulsed as his seed spilled out of him in heavy spurts, filling her and mixing with her own copious fluids that, by then, had created a rather large puddle on the sheets beneath them.

He pulled her quaking body down to lie on top of his and he pressed his mouth onto her neck. He felt the mass of sweaty, bushy hair cover his face as he nuzzled into her skin.

It took a few minutes for their breathing to return to a somewhat normal rate. She could still feel him pulsing inside of her every once in a while, sending a slight shiver of delight through her each time it occurred.


	4. The Last GoodBye

Disclaimer: I have yet to check my messages, I offered to buy the 'Harry Potter' story for a pound-fifty, but I haven't heard anything back, so no, I don't own it yet.

A/N: This is the biggest and last chapter. As far as I know there won't be any more to this unless there is a massive demand, but I really don't anticipate it. Just sit back and relax, have a cigarette, the sex is over!

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4. The Last Good-Bye

She was lightly kissing his shoulder when she heard a slight, muffled sob escape his throat. She lifted herself so that she could see his face. A tear ran from the corner of his eye and disappeared into the sweaty hair covering his temple. She knew what was troubling him. She also knew there wasn't much she could do about it other than to just be there for him.

"What took you so long to come back?" she asked while running her soft hand over his chest. "Was I that bad?" she joked, "I promise next time to be much better. I know I'm a bit out of practice, seeing how long it took you to see me this time."

He closed his eyes and turned his head away from her. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his still ragged breathing.

"There won't be a next time." His voice sounded choked, "That was the last one. It's over."

"Oh…" she said softly, but he could tell there was a hint of genuine sadness in her voice. She lifted herself from his chest, turned his head so that he was facing her and gazed into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't know. I should have done something special for you."

She dropped her gaze to the point where their bodies were still joined, "So that's why I haven't seen you in so long." Her gaze drifted up to the clock on the wall, "You still have ten minutes, enjoy me while you can!" she said in a mock-cheerful voice, holding her arms out to her sides as if she were presenting herself to him. Deep down she knew that she didn't want this to end. She did not fancy the idea of never seeing Harry again. He has had far too much of an impact on her life for her to just say good-bye to him and forget the time they had spent together… like they never existed.

Harry was just lying back watching her… studying her… She knew he was trying to burn her image into his mind before he had to leave.

She didn't want him to leave.

"Harry?"

He didn't acknowledge her. She saw another tear follow the same trail as the previous one did as he absently stared at her features.

"I remember those times at Hogwarts. You have no idea how badly I was tortured by my housemates just for… just for liking you." She watched him closely for a reaction. "We all weren't evil, you know…"

He was still staring blankly at her, she really didn't think he was listening at all until he spoke, "Why did you get into this business? I mean, in theory, it would seem a good source of income, but..."

"Well, the only NEWTs I got were in Potions and Herbology. Being around plants that wanted to kill me all day didn't seem very appealing to me, so I thought I'd put my potion brewing talents to use. My family was quite poor, and since my parents were killed for defying… _you-know-who…_ I've had to fend for myself. At first, I had to do… _'this'_ just to be able to afford food, but I'm not doing that badly now, really."

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a sad sigh. He knew he only had a few minutes left. He rolled her over, sliding out of her warmth and stood up from the bed, "Well, I had best be going now, I'm sure you have other 'customers.'"

She sat up on the mattress and looked down at the rather large wet spot next to her on the bed. She could feel their juices still seeping out of her, creating a new damp area beneath where her bum was now, "No, I don't. I haven't taken any other clients since I started seeing you. In fact, you were my first customer... my _only_ customer."

Harry slid his boxers on and was just pulling his slacks up his legs when he abruptly stopped and looked at her, her words finally sank in. "What? No other customers at all? It's been six years, how have you been surviving this long?"

She didn't want to frighten him more by saying the truth, that she didn't take other customers because she felt she would be cheating on him. "Well, at first I didn't need any others, what you were paying me in a week covered my expenses for a month. You were too generous with the tips you left me, by the way."

That comment brought a slight smile to Harry's lips.

"With the extra money you were giving me, I was able to afford a decent potions lab in the other room off the drawing room. I'm under contract now with St. Mungo's to provide them with potions, you know… healing, blood-replenishing, Pepper-Up, antidotes… the stuff they need to keep in stock. They pay me quite well, and I haven't had to do _'this'_ since the first week you saw me."

Harry looked confused. He also looked terribly cute as he stood there in just his boxers and his pants half-way up his legs.

"Then why have you kept seeing me all these years, you could… seeing… me…?" Harry's eyes widened as he realized exactly why she had kept him as a 'customer.' He didn't know whether to be angry at her or happy that she cared enough for him to keep this 'game' going for so long. He really didn't know what to think.

She still had her eyes fixed on the damp spot they created on the sheets. She never would have told him if there was a chance that he would return. If that was truly the last envelope, he'd have no reason to ever see her again. It was now or never. She had to tell him. Already she could feel the uncomfortable, tingling sensation of the Polyjuice potion wearing off.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to that night. He had just heard about the existence of 'Polyjuice Whores' from Neville. Just a decent size hair added to a potion and the woman of your dreams, or man for that matter, would be waiting for you. He meticulously extracted the hair from Hermione's hairbrush and placed each individual strand in an envelope, sealed it and stored it in his box. He finally used the last one. After this day, he'd never see her again. Never. This was his last good-bye.

"_I love you. I've been in love with you for years."_ Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear what she whispered. Almost.

This was the first time he would see what she really looked like. He would finally see exactly whom he was obsessing about, whom he was longing for, who he had been making love to for over six years. He had never before waited around long enough to see the potion wear off. He always wanted to keep the illusion in his head that it was really Hermione that was holding him, kissing him, loving him. He'd held the illusion for so long, he forgot that beneath the skin she was an entirely different person.

Slowly, her hair changed, darkening to a silky, jet black and lengthening so that it reached the small of her back in a long straight fall. Her eyes seemed to separate slightly while changing from the chocolate brown to a deep, dark-blue colour that went quite well with her black hair and lent an exotic look to her face. Her face itself was thinning and her cheekbones shifted upwards. Her breasts swelled from Hermione's perky B-cup to what looked like a healthy C, while her frame stretched and thinned slightly, making her, obviously, a little taller and a bit thinner. Overall, the change was startling, but certainly not unpleasant.

Feeling that the change back to her true self was complete, she slowly climbed off the bed and did a small, graceful turn in front of Harry.

He was standing there examining the woman in front of him. He vaguely remembered seeing her at Hogwarts. She was a fourth-year Slytherin girl when he was in his sixth and final year, the year he left to search for the horcruxes.

"You're Agatha Tassturn, am I right?"

She blushed furiously at the fact that he remembered her name and buried her face in her hands, "Oh, I hate that name, everyone calls me by my middle name, Jean."

Harry smiled to himself at her apparent embarrassment. She really was quite attractive.

"Well? Am I so terrible to look at?" She still had her eyes shyly fixed at the damp area on the bed, afraid to see what expression Harry wore. "Now that you've seen the real me, I hope you can keep a secret… I certainly don't want to be publicly known as a 'Polyjuice Whore.'" She was deathly afraid that he really didn't like what he now saw. It was a strange feeling for her, she had been naked countless times in front of him, but now felt rather embarrassed about being so exposed to him at that moment. She nervously waited for Harry to say something. _Anything._

She could just see him out of the corner of her eye as he quietly collected his clothing that was spread throughout the room.

"You know, I've never 'acted' for you." She said shyly, "I never even read the notes you made about her the first time you were here. I've never even had to fake anything the whole time we've been meeting, it's all been '_me_.'"

Still, Harry said nothing, and she still couldn't find the courage to look up at him.

"I know you loved Hermione very much, and believe me, I'm not trying to replace her. I'd never expect you to stop loving her. It wasn't fair to you or her, the way she died and all, I understand that. I just thought that now… well, since it's over and I won't have to use… oooh, why is this so difficult?"

"You probably feel like you're meeting me for the first time…" She finally looked up and met his eyes, "but to me, I've been seeing you for six years, we've been seeing _each other_ for six years. Do you think that… that maybe _we_ could have a chance? You know, 'us,' 'you and me' and not this fantasy?" She suddenly felt just as naked as she was, "Harry, I couldn't bear to live the rest of my life never seeing you again… I knew there would come a day where you just wouldn't come here anymore, but I never thought it would be this soon… and I never thought I'd fall this badly for you."

Upon hearing her words, Harry suddenly remembered his own thoughts earlier that day… '_I couldn't bear to live the rest of my life never seeing her again…'_

"Slytherin, huh?" stated Harry as he resumed dressing himself. He turned away from her to search for his shirt that he tossed aside earlier.

Jean felt a pit open in her stomach as she heavily sat back down on the bed. She shivered slightly at the feeling of the now-cold 'wet spot' on her bum. _'Figures…' _she bitterly thought to herself,_ 'Why couldn't I have been placed in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? Hell, I'd bet if I was a Hufflepuff he'd give me a chance. The moment people hear 'Slytherin' they think 'Death Eater,' even after all these years. Damn it, even my parents were killed by those bastards, for Merlin's sake!'_

"Listen, I'm not proud of what I had to do, but I had no other choice. I couldn't get a decent job due to 'Death Eater Stigma' of my house. We all weren't Death Eaters, or Death Eater wanna be's, you know… I do admit that the majority of Slytherins were, or they were at least sympathizers, but me being the only Half-Blood in the house… well, let's say it wasn't a pleasant scholastic experience for me. Why did the sorting hat put a Half-Blood in Slytherin, anyway? I didn't want to be placed there, I cried every day for the entire first month I was there."

She knew he wouldn't get past her being a Slytherin. She couldn't blame him, really, she witnessed the Hell that her housemates put him through during the years at school. She knew first hand how cruel they could be. She felt the tears building under her eyelids, but she refused to show them until after he left. No self-respecting Slytherin would let a Gryffindor see them cry. She watched him button his shirt and neatly tuck the tails into his pants. He slipped on his socks and shoes, and picked up his leather jacket. He withdrew a small moneybag from his pocket and moved to put it on the end table near the bed.

"Its okay, Harry, keep it. This one's on me… considering it's… it's our last meeting, and I… and…." Her voice sounded small and weak, even though she tried desperately not to make it sound so. She stood from the bed, careful not to make eye contact, and gave Harry a warm hug.

"Well, I… I guess this is good-bye." Jean said in the same small, defeated voice as she held him in her embrace, and then she repeated with a choked whisper in his ear, _'Good-bye.'_

Her lower lip was still trembling as she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek then reluctantly broke the embrace. She automatically turned away from him, looked down, and inspected the polish on her toenails while waiting for him to leave the room. She felt the tears that she was desperately trying to keep in check leak out of her eyes and run down her cheeks. This was her last good-bye.

'_She said she loves me...'_

Harry stared at her for a long moment, taking stock of what he was feeling. He was mildly surprised that a lot of what he felt when Jean was in Hermione's form was still present.

'_She said she loves me...'_

Did she really mean it? He knew himself to be a good judge of people and could usually tell when he was being lied to. He gently probed her mind and found only sadness, fear..., _and love._ Was she really telling the truth when she said she had never put on an act for him? She never read the list of Hermione's personality traits that he wrote out for her before the first meeting? The thought suddenly occurred to him, _'If all that's true, then just maybe…'_

Jean jumped slightly when Harry placed his hand on her shoulder from behind. Her breath hitched only once, and then she cocked her head to the side and ran her wet cheek over the back of his hand.

"I understand, Harry," she said in a wavering voice, "don't… don't worry about me, I… I'll be fine. You know us Slytherins… clever, resourceful and all that rubbish."

With just the slightest bit of pressure on her shoulder, Harry slowly turned her around to face him, though she still had her eyes directed to the floor. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. Giving her a warm smile, he said, "Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to have a spot of lunch with me, that is, if you don't mind being seen in public with a lowly Gryffindor… Maybe we can talk for a while."

She didn't react at first. She was so wrapped up in her own miserable thoughts that it took a few moments for his words to register in her brain. She suddenly looked up to his face and her eyes widened in disbelief as she realized what she thought he said. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to squeak out, "What?"

"You…" He pointed to her. "Me…" He pointed to himself. "Lunch…" He made a table-to-mouth motion with an imaginary fork, showing an amused smile the whole time.

She blinked a few times, and then softly asked, "R- really? You… you aren't kidding me?"

Harry was still smiling at her as he shook his head. "I'm not kidding you." He watched her as a wide grin appeared on her lips. _'She really is beautiful… for a Slytherin…'_ he mused to himself.

She let out a squeak and excitedly jumped in place a few times while clapping her hands, which only caused Harry's smile to widen. She grabbed his face and gave him a quick kiss, then let out a little squeal and said, "Oh! I have the perfect outfit, I know you'll love it! Oh, my! I don't believe it! I… I'll… I'll be right back," she was slowly walking backwards while holding up a finger indicating for him to wait, "I… I'm going to shower, then get dressed! Don't… Don't move! Merlin, _please_ don't move!"

Harry watched as the naked woman turned and happily bounced across the room and disappeared through the doorway. He could hear her voice as she ran up the stairs, "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God…!"

A part of Harry still missed Hermione terribly and probably always would, but another part of him, a part that hadn't made its presence known for many years, let him know that he was going to be okay. He wasn't going to be quite so lonely anymore. Maybe it was the right time to finally say 'good-bye.'

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In a new pub that was just a few miles away, Ron sat in a small booth, sipping a butterbeer and looking mildly surprised at the large grin that appeared on his wife's face just a moment before. She was dreamily gazing off into the distance over Ron's shoulder when she suddenly said, "I told you."

Ron gave her a confused smile and asked, "What?"

Luna grinned and, with unusual focus and clarity, looked directly into her husband's eyes and said, "I told you Harry would be fine. He finally found what he's been searching for."

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A/N: Lord, I love the idea of Polyjuice. It is the single most versatile item in the HP stories. The possibilities are positively endless! I originally planned for Harry to return to his home and brood, like he is wont to do, but I grew to like the 'Jean' character and I just couldn't break her heart like that. :( I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

(Angry Hermione)


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